High Heels
by phoebe9509
Summary: Hotch gets distracted by someones shoes


It began with those damn high heels she had worn that day. At first Hotch was pretty sure that she had no idea what she was doing to him. And the funny thing was, that made it harder for him to keep his composure.

He first noticed them when she was sitting at her desk. She was leaning back casually in her chair, listening to him talk. She had crossed her left leg over top of her right. This in and of itself didn't effect him; it was something she did quite regularly.

It was her feet, or rather what was on her feet that caught his attention. Sure, she could have just worn a pair of black high heels to work, but no, she had to wear the strappy ones with the spiked heels. The straps wrapped around her foot held the sole of the shoe tight to the perfect arch of her foot and went around the back of her heel to buckle at her ankle.

He tried not to let his mind wander, tried not to think about how she would look in black lace, pressed between the wall and himself with her thighs wrapped tightly around his waist. Of course she would be wearing those heels.

"Hotch?"

He realized that he had been staring at her feet for several minutes now and was pretty sure that he had stopped talking in mid-sentence.

"Yeah?"

"You-uh-just stopped talking and you're staring at my shoes."

His face flushed a rather unflattering shade of red.

"Sorry, I was just, um, thinking," he lied.

She tried to catch his eye but he wasn't looking at her anymore. In fact, he was careful not to look at her for the rest of the day. He was also determined to not let her catch him off guard again; afraid that she would start asking questions and he'd have to lie to her. Hotch did not like being dishonest with anyone, particularly Emily. Besides, most times she caught on to the lie and called him on it. Obviously he couldn't lie to her, but the option of just blurting out the truth didn't sound like a good idea either. Wouldn't that just be a hell of a conversation? Telling your subordinate that you were having sexual fantasies and they were about her no less!

His hand pressed over his face. Why did she have to wear those? As he tugged on his jacket he prayed that Emily chose a different pair of shoes tomorrow. Those damn things had kept his mind wandering all day long and it was quite difficult to do your job when you were wondering what her voice sounded like when she was screaming your name. When he turned to leave, he found himself gazing into the object of his desire. Hotch leaped in surprise and quickly averted his eyes. He had been so deep in thought that she had managed to sneak up on him unnoticed.

"Are you okay? You've been really quiet and to be honest you've been acting a little strange all day."

"Yes Prentiss, I'm fine. Just a little tired is all," he fibbed and then tried to get past her, but she stepped in front of him.

This caused him to bump into her. He closed his eyes and stepped back from her trying not to think about how warm and soft she felt. How nice it would be to explore that softness and warmth as she lies in his bed, her voice coming out in short hot bursts as she begged for more.

"So you probably don't want to go out for dinner with me, Reid and JJ then?" she asked. His eyes met hers.

"Can I take you up on that tomorrow?" he asked.

She looked away. "Sure."

"Prentiss?"

"Hmm?"

He opened his mouth, but he couldn't form the words. She just smiled at him and turned to leave.

"Good night," he called.

She stopped and turned back, studying him for a moment. "Night Hotch."

He pretended to have forgotten something at his desk and returned to it. He did not want to be in the elevator alone with her. With his current state of mind, he couldn't trust himself not to say or do something stupid.

"You're going home, right Hotch?"

His eyes jerked onto Derek Morgan in surprise. He hadn't seen him standing there.

"Yes, just getting a few things."

"Okay."

With a folder that he didn't need in his hand, he made his way to the elevator with his friend. Thankfully Morgan was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to really speak to Hotch. They bade each other good night as they exited the elevator in the parking garage. He was glad to finally be alone for the first time that day. As he drove to his apartment, he told himself that he needed to rid his mind of the thoughts and images of Emily pressing herself against him while his tongue tasted the sweetness that was her mouth and his fingers tangled in the silken strands of her hair.

"Damn it," he muttered, pushing the door to his apartment open.

Immediately he went to the liquor cabinet in the kitchen and poured himself some scotch. He quickly drained the glass and poured himself a second one. This one he drank a little slower before setting the glass in the sink and putting the bottle of scotch into the cabinet. Hotch wandered mindlessly over to the refrigerator and pulled it open to stare at the contents on the shelves. None of it appealed to him so he meandered into the living room. When he had situated himself on the couch, he flipped on the TV. He had been watching the program for about a half hour before he drifted off.

There was a soft tapping at the door, but Hotch didn't get up. After a moment, the tapping grew more insistent, so he knew that it wasn't just his imagination.

"What?"

"Can I come in?"

It was Prentiss.

"Yes, the door is open," he called.

He heard the door open, but he didn't open his eyes. Why was he so damn tired?

"Hotch?"

"Mhm?"

"Look at me."

The way she'd said that was what really caught him by surprise. It had been commanding and in a low sexy tone. He opened his eyes and turned to look at her. His mouth nearly dropped open. She stood in front of him in what might have been called a dress. It was black and very small. It scarcely skimmed her thighs and dipped down to reveal her firm breasts.

"Prentiss?"

"Shhh…"

She advanced on him slowly and fluidly. Before he knew what was really going on, she was straddling him. Her fingers were running along the smooth skin of his face, Emily's lips replaced her fingertips and she began trailing kisses along his jaw and down the side of his throat. Goosebumps erupted all over his body as she nuzzled his neck. He could feel her teeth scraping lightly as she bit and sucked the flesh there.

Her hips rolled forward against his erection. They groaned simultaneously. He tugged the dress over her head and sighed happily at what he found beneath it. His hands went to her lace clad breasts and gently squeezed and kneaded. She bit down on her lower lip and let her head drop back.

When she felt his lips on her nipple through the fabric, he heard her groan. She opened her mouth and began to…ring?

His eyes flew open. That's when he realized he, Aaron Hotchner, was having a wet dream about his subordinate.

"Damn phone," he grumbled before flipping it open.

"Hotchner."

"Yeah, I'll be there in a few minutes," he said, trying to hide his annoyance.

He swung his feet over the edge of the couch and shuffled over to the door where his shoes were. After pulling his jacket on, he went down to the car. He stifled a yawn as he started the vehicle, pulled out of the parking garage and headed back to the office.

When he arrived at the office Emily and JJ were already there. She was bent over her desk rifling through her drawer looking for something. JJ was talking to her and he heard both of them laugh. Her laughter did things to certain areas of his body. When Emily stood back up she reached a hand up to brush her hair behind her ear. When she did, he felt his breathing catch in his throat. He noticed her nails were crimson red. This was going to be one hell of a long day.

"What do we have JJ?" he inquired as he made his way over to them.

JJ launched into an explanation that lasted much longer than Hotch would have liked. Hotch was just looking forward to being alone again. Those red nails were going to be the end of him. And she had worn those heels again. Damn.

"Hotch!"

He turned to her.

" Yes?"

"Do you think you drop me home on your way? I drove in with JJ today but she said she was going to stay a while longer here and prep for tomorrow so I don't have a ride."

He tried to repress his sigh that was trying to make its way out of his mouth.

"Sure."

They made their way over to his vehicle and got in. The silence between them was quite awkward. Emily rubbed the back of her neck nervously before leaning against the seat. Out of the corner of his eyes, Hotch saw her cross her legs at the ankle. He tried to ignore the heels, the feel of her lips on his from the dream. He cleared his throat and shook his head.

Her eyes swiveled to look at him.

"Hotch?"

"Yes Prentiss?"

"Are you okay?"

"Uh-yeah. Why do you ask?"

"You just seem a little…out of it, that's all."

"Oh. Maybe I just slept funny," he replied.

"I couldn't sleep last night."

It wasn't the words that made him turn to look at her. It was her voice. She sounded almost breathless.

"I-I'm sorry about that Prentiss."

She smirked at him. Holy shit that look she was giving him was going to sear him to the bone.

"Don't be."

He swallowed hard.

"I saw how you were looking at me yesterday. It was making me crazy," she breathed.

This was not happening.

"I wanted to have you right there, right in the bullpen. On my desk Hotch."

This had to be a really long wet dream. There was no way in hell she was actually saying this to him. Her eyes were glazed over with desire as she looked at him expectantly. When he didn't react the way she wanted him to she snaked her hand upon his thigh. Slowly she inched it upward.

"Prentiss!!"

"Yes Hotch?"

She was smirking at him deviously, her hand still creeping up. He pulled the car into a parking spot at her building with lightening speed.

"I swear if you don't stop, I am not going to be able to."

"Good."

They stumbled in the doorway, their lips latched. Hotch's hands slid under the cotton of Emily's t-shirt. His fingers pressed against her hardened nipples through the smooth fabric of her bra. It wasn't exactly lace, but it was still just as good, if not better.

Her fingers brushed along his lower abdomen as she untucked his shirt and made short work of the buttons. It was quickly discarded with the rest of their clothing, but they both made sure her shoes stayed on. In a matter of minutes, they had managed to make it from the hallway to her bedroom. They had also managed to knock down the table beside the couch, the magazine holder, and the lamp on their way.

Hotch had her pressed against the wall, planting kisses on her breasts and stomach. He made his way lower and lower until he was nipping at her thigh. His lips were feathering kisses on her again, kissing her, just short of where she desperately wanted him to. She groaned in frustration when he stood up and pulled her into his arms.

"Hotch, please…"

Finally, the pair made it to the bed. Emily lay on her stomach, a pillow beneath her, propping her hips up. His arms snaked around her as he positioned himself at her entrance. In one fluid motion, he was sheathed in her slippery recesses. A whimper slipped from her lips, spurring him into motion.

He pulled almost all the way out before driving himself deep into her again. His eyes were shut tight, letting him get lost in all the sensations. The slick vice that her inner muscles held his girth in, the pants and moans coming from deep in her throat. The way her hair smelled like citrus and her skin smelled like vanilla. The soft silkiness of her skin as he thrust into her again and again.

"Ho-tch!"

He knew he wasn't going to last much longer and he was determined that she come, so his fingers slipped into her folds. He knew he had found what he was looking for when Emily's internal muscles tightened around him. He continued to press down on the bundle of nerves as he thrust.

Moans were torn from her throat and her breathing was coming out in rasps.

"So good," he groaned as he drove himself into her again.

With one more pass of his fingers over the sensitive spot, she came, her muscles clenching around him. The friction drove him to his own climax, causing him to tense and shudder, spilling into her. He repeated her name until he was spent for breath.

He then pulled her flush against him and whispered into her ear. "If you don't want this to happen on your desk, you're gonna have to never wear those shoes to work again."

"What if I do want it?" she asked smirking.

He groaned and kissed the back of her neck. She was going to be the death of him. It was that simple, but damn, what a good way to go.


End file.
